"I'm sorry about Mr. Wayne." The mention of his name jolts me back
into reality. It's Monday. Two days after Wayne's death. And the
unspeakable event has finally gotten Mom to speak to me.
The miserable side of me wants to get angry, to yell at her because she never talked to Mr. Wayne nor worked with Mr. Wayne and she knew nothing of Mr. Wayne except for the paychecks I brought home to her.
But the reasonable side, the one that Wayne helped shape, tells me that that would be a stupid idea.
"Thanks, Mom." I can hear how dead and hollow my voice is.
"I know you've spent a lot of time with him, and you must miss him."
I miss him more than I ever thought I would.
"Yeah." But I can't tell Mom that. She'd think I was being stupid, being just as sad about the death of my boss as I was about the last death that happened to us. Mom goes back about her business, happy that we're talking again.
It's like when Dad died, except they don't give me looks of pity or sympathetic treatment.
It's just Terry's boss. Why should we feel sorry for him?
I go in my room and shut the door. Lydia's in there, getting ready to go to work. She immediately stops what she's doing when she sees me, but doesn't say anything.
Not even Lyd can think of anything to say to me.
"Don't tell me you're sorry." I say, sitting down on the bed.
"I'm not sorry." Lydia replies.
"And don't say you know what he meant to me."
"I don't know what he means to you." Lyd sits down on the bed next to me.
"What are you going to say?" She stares at me for a minute.
"Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all, McGinnis." I bet she and Wayne would have gotten along pretty well, if Wayne had stopped hating her long enough to meet her.
The phone rings. I resist the urge to rip the thing out of the wall and throw it out the window.
"Mr. McGinnis?" I half-imagine its Wayne, who'll laugh that I believed such an impossible thing as his death.
"This is the executor of Mr. Wayne's estate." Oh yeah. The guy who'll dole out parts of Wayne's life to whoever happens to be on the list.
"I noticed you weren't present at the reading of Mr. Wayne's will." Yeah. Like I want to be there when Wayne's family home and consequently the Batcave gets sold to someone else.
"Was I supposed to be?"
"Well, I thought you'd be a bit interested, considering you're the sole beneficiary."
What?
"He's pretty much left everything to you, Mr. McGinnis. His home, all his assets, including a 49% ownership of Wayne-Powers Corporation. It's all yours, Mr. McGinnis."
Well.
At least there's no danger of Batman going into the wrong hands. But all his money, his home, his whole company, and Batman to boot?
I sit there in stupid silence for a minute.
"I'm also calling to inform you that Paxton Powers, current CEO of Wayne-Powers Industries, would like you to meet with the Board of Trustees this morning to discuss your share in the company." Paxton Powers. I haven't seen him since his father died.
What's it going to be like working with a guy whose father I killed? Then again, what's it going to be like working with a guy whose father killed mine?
"I'll be down there immediately." I answer, almost sounding like an overeager recruit going off to boot camp.
"Good luck Mr. McGinnis." I'm going to need all the luck I can get.
The miserable side of me wants to get angry, to yell at her because she never talked to Mr. Wayne nor worked with Mr. Wayne and she knew nothing of Mr. Wayne except for the paychecks I brought home to her.
But the reasonable side, the one that Wayne helped shape, tells me that that would be a stupid idea.
"Thanks, Mom." I can hear how dead and hollow my voice is.
"I know you've spent a lot of time with him, and you must miss him."
I miss him more than I ever thought I would.
"Yeah." But I can't tell Mom that. She'd think I was being stupid, being just as sad about the death of my boss as I was about the last death that happened to us. Mom goes back about her business, happy that we're talking again.
It's like when Dad died, except they don't give me looks of pity or sympathetic treatment.
It's just Terry's boss. Why should we feel sorry for him?
I go in my room and shut the door. Lydia's in there, getting ready to go to work. She immediately stops what she's doing when she sees me, but doesn't say anything.
Not even Lyd can think of anything to say to me.
"Don't tell me you're sorry." I say, sitting down on the bed.
"I'm not sorry." Lydia replies.
"And don't say you know what he meant to me."
"I don't know what he means to you." Lyd sits down on the bed next to me.
"What are you going to say?" She stares at me for a minute.
"Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all, McGinnis." I bet she and Wayne would have gotten along pretty well, if Wayne had stopped hating her long enough to meet her.
The phone rings. I resist the urge to rip the thing out of the wall and throw it out the window.
"Mr. McGinnis?" I half-imagine its Wayne, who'll laugh that I believed such an impossible thing as his death.
"This is the executor of Mr. Wayne's estate." Oh yeah. The guy who'll dole out parts of Wayne's life to whoever happens to be on the list.
"I noticed you weren't present at the reading of Mr. Wayne's will." Yeah. Like I want to be there when Wayne's family home and consequently the Batcave gets sold to someone else.
"Was I supposed to be?"
"Well, I thought you'd be a bit interested, considering you're the sole beneficiary."
What?
"He's pretty much left everything to you, Mr. McGinnis. His home, all his assets, including a 49% ownership of Wayne-Powers Corporation. It's all yours, Mr. McGinnis."
Well.
At least there's no danger of Batman going into the wrong hands. But all his money, his home, his whole company, and Batman to boot?
I sit there in stupid silence for a minute.
"I'm also calling to inform you that Paxton Powers, current CEO of Wayne-Powers Industries, would like you to meet with the Board of Trustees this morning to discuss your share in the company." Paxton Powers. I haven't seen him since his father died.
What's it going to be like working with a guy whose father I killed? Then again, what's it going to be like working with a guy whose father killed mine?
"I'll be down there immediately." I answer, almost sounding like an overeager recruit going off to boot camp.
"Good luck Mr. McGinnis." I'm going to need all the luck I can get.